Page 110 of Jealous Billionaire's Endless Regret

He dropped the phone back onto the table with a dull thud, the ache in his chest growing heavier.

Esther leaned closer, brushing her arm deliberately against his. Her perfume filled the space between them—a scent he used to ignore, now unbearably sweet.

“Are you still blaming me for lying about my illness?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with something between guilt and manipulation. “I was confused, Lorenzo. I fell in love with you, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I just wanted to be close to you, that’s all.”

At the table, Michael and Larry exchanged a glance. Michael’s lips were pressed into a line. Larry rolled his eyes.

Lorenzo turned his head slowly to face her. His voice was stern. “You did what you did. It’s over. You’re not sick anymore. There’s no reason for us to meet anymore.”

Esther’s smile faltered, but before she could respond, Larry leaned back in his chair and called out mockingly, “Didn’t you used to like Esther? Everyone’s been saying she’s your one true love.”

Larry’s eyes flicked toward Esther, full of cold disdain. His voice lost all patience.

“Everywhere I go, people keep saying you divorced Krystal because of Esther. That you and Esther are madly in love.”

Lorenzo’s voice spiked with fury at once. “When did I ever say I’m in love with Esther?”

Larry’s brows lifted, caught off guard. Esther, unfazed, placed her hand on Lorenzo’s arm again, her voice syrupy and fragile.

“It’s been two years, Lorenzo... we’ve been together—”

He raised his hand sharply, cutting her off without looking at her. “No, we haven’t. It happened once. By accident. And after that, I only stuck around because you were injured. That accident was my fault. I took responsibility. That’s it.”

Esther’s face drained of color, her hand slipping away from his arm.

“So that’s all I am to you?” she whispered. “Just... an accident?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly, not even flinching. “There’s nothing more.”

A heavy silence settled for a second before Larry sat forward, his smirk now gone. His voice was serious.

“But people are saying you don’t even like Krystal. That you only married her because Grandpa forced you. And now you're divorcing her because you want Esther.”

Lorenzo straightened, his entire posture tense and rigid. “All of that is a lie. When did I ever say I don’t like Krystal?”

“Then why are you divorcing her?” Larry shot back, eyes narrowed.

“She’s the one insisting on it!” Lorenzo shot back with frustration.

Larry let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, throwing his arms up before folding them across his chest. He leaned back in his chair, disbelief etched across his face.

“Man, at first, I thought it was just your eyesight that needed help,” he said, shaking his head. “But now I’m convinced—your brain’s broken too. You say one thing, do another, and then talk like none of it’s connected to you.”

Lorenzo’s scowl deepened, his jaw tightening as he opened his mouth to fire back.

But before a single word left his lips, Esther reached across the table. She picked up a glass, poured a drink slowly, and pushed it toward him, her smile soft—calculated.

“Even if we can’t be together,” she said sweetly, “I still want us to be friends.”

Lorenzo didn’t even spare her a glance.

Without a word, he shoved his chair back with a sharp screech and stood. His expression was cold.

“I need some air,” he muttered, and strode out of the room, his steps clipped and angry.

Michael pushed back his own chair, watching Lorenzo disappear through the door before rising. “I’ll go check on him.”

As Michael left, silence fell over the table until Larry’s gaze slowly turned to Esther. His eyes, usually playful, were now hard and cutting.

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